Thailand wonders what to do with the millions who have fled there

NESTLING on a hillside in the lush forests of northern Thailand, Mae La refugee camp's neatly thatched rows of bamboo huts make it look rather charming. While children frolic on the muddy streets, women sit at handlooms, weaving cloth for sarongs. The camp has fresh water from standpipes, a clinic and even some small shops. Aid-workers bring in food and medical supplies. Conditions are far better than in, say, the refugee camps of Darfur.

Yet Mae La is a prison for the 50,000 Burmese crammed into it. They are among the 163,000 or so stuck in camps along Thailand's western border. All have fled from war, repression and poverty in the neighbouring country they call Burma—but which the generals who brutally misrule it have renamed Myanmar. Though they are treated well in the camps, they are forbidden to leave. Those who sneak out seeking work risk being sent to Myanmar.

Most refugees at Mae La belong to the Karen ethnic group, whose homeland spans the border between Thailand and Myanmar. They have been arriving since 1984, when Myanmar's troops, drawn mainly from the country's dominant Burman ethnic group, first broke through the defences of the Karen's separatist army. Whereas the regime has beaten other rebellious minorities into signing “ceasefires”, the Karen fight on. Almost every dry season brings a fresh assault by the regime on their remaining turf, triggering a fresh flood of refugees. New arrivals are still trickling into the Thai camps following the latest such attack, earlier this year.

One fugitive Karen says she was a teenager when her family was among the first to arrive in Mae La, in 1984. Now a mother of five who works in the camp's clinic, she sees little prospect of going back. She would like to stay and work in Thailand. Others in the camp dream of being resettled in Australia, America or another rich country—an option now being opened up to them, following a change of policy by the Thai government. Resettlement is great for some, but it robs the refugee community of its most skilled and articulate members. There has been a heated debate at the camp over whether to accept Australia's offer to take some of its members.

Until this year the Thai authorities only allowed small numbers of refugees to be resettled in other countries. They feared that large-scale resettlement would encourage even greater numbers to come across the border. This, after all, is what happened in the 1970s when America resettled many refugees who had come to Thailand to escape the Vietnam war.

Now resettlement is being granted to all those in the camps who can find a country to take them. America took its first batch, from the crowded Tham Hin camp, last month. Perhaps 10,000 more will go next year, as the resettlement schemes get into full swing, reckons the boss of a charity in the camps. But, with no end in sight to the Burmese regime's attacks on the Karen and other minorities, he says their places are likely to be taken by fresh arrivals. On September 15th America succeeded in getting Myanmar's troubles put on the agenda of the UN Security Council. But with China and Russia opposed even to discussing it, the chances of making the regime mend its ways are slim.

Those huddled in the refugee camps are only the visible tip of the iceberg. Far larger numbers of Burmese, and those fleeing poverty and oppression in Laos and Cambodia, live illegally all over Thailand. The government has wavered between sending them back and letting them stay. In 2004 it offered a temporary permit to any migrant from those countries who applied for it. Around 1.3m did so—but officials concede the true number of migrants in Thailand may be over 2m. About half of those registered in 2004 have failed to renew their permits.

Meanwhile Thailand's government briefly thought that a deal was possible with Myanmar's junta, in which the refugees and other migrants could be sent back under United Nations protection. The government and the UN High Commissioner for Refugees were well advanced on a sweeping repatriation plan when, in October 2004, the Burmese general they had been dealing with, Khin Nyunt, was deposed as prime minister by more hardline generals. This dashed hopes for any sort of deal with the regime.

Now Thailand's authorities accept that they are stuck with the migrant problem, admits Dusit Manapan, a senior official in the Thai foreign ministry. So, cautiously, they are edging towards long-term solutions. Those in the camps who are not resettled in rich countries will be offered identity cards, a first step towards letting them seek work. Meanwhile the government is hoping to persuade Thai manufacturers—such as shoemakers—to set up workshops in the camps. The education ministry wants to improve the limited schooling refugee children get, in particular teaching them to speak Thai. In the past year agreements have been reached with Myanmar, Cambodia and Laos to try to regularise the flow of migrants coming purely for economic reasons. Thailand will tell them how many guest workers it wants each year; the three neighbouring countries will then grant special passports to that number. It is unclear what difference this scheme will make.

Yet the Thai government's recent moves suggest at least that it realises that refugees and migrants can be a boon as well as a burden. As Thailand becomes more prosperous, it is getting harder to fill dirty, low-paid and risky jobs. Such work may be better than anything the visitors can find back home.